


Frosted

by CassFear84



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Frost knows his boss, Joker missing Harley, M/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:16:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8597632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassFear84/pseuds/CassFear84
Summary: The Joker is sulking in the basement because he can't find his Quinn. Frost thinks it's hurting the business so he sets about to bring his boss out of his slump.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been thinking that there's got to be a reason why the Joker is so comfortable with Frost, right? So here's my take on it. I'm making no money. Please don't hate me.

He can hear the sound of the blades from the other room. J has been cleaning all his weapons and reorganizing them for days. Harley’s disappearance is really doing a number on him. Frost knows his boss loves her, he just never says it aloud. Maybe he’s never even admitted it to himself. But Frost knows. He has seen it, ever since the very beginning. Even in Arkham it had been obvious J was attached to the woman somehow. He had put a lot of effort into driving her insane. And he’d surpassed his own expectations. Harley is even more deranged than the Joker himself, shows no remorse and no regard for anyone other than him. And J lives for her, breathes for her. Everything he does, all his businesses, his entire empire has been rebuilt around Harley Quinn. Frost isn't particularly pleased with that. Harley is unstable on the best of days and the Joker’s mood depends directly on her state of mind. That whole issue with Monster T was about jealousy. Mixing business with pleasure is always a recipe for disaster, and shooting Monster T like that had resonated in numerous deals going sour. But you don't argue with Mr J, and Frost isn't gonna get on his bad side.

Problem is, the world doesn’t stop turning just cause Harley has been snatched. Deals have to be seen through, clients are waiting for their payments. The whole of Gotham's criminals are holding their breath waiting for the Joker to move. And here he is, in his basement, reorganizing his knives, because he doesn't know what to do with himself without his girl.

Making excuses for the tenth time in five minutes, Frost hangs up the phone and stands up with a sigh. Still no sign of her, but there has been trouble in one of the clubs. Someone tried to rob them. That should at least get a reaction from J. Killing always helped bring him back from a slump. 

Frost opens the door without knocking, expecting to be met by a gun. To his surprise, J is pacing, head down, pulling at his hair. He gives off the image of someone who is completely disconnected from reality. He is wearing a suit, though no shirt - as usual - and he appears to be talking to himself. Every two or three steps he stops to kick at the ground and throw his arms up. Then he resumes the pacing and pulling. This is good, Frost thinks. Restless J he can handle. Pent-up energy Joker needs one thing, usually provided by Harley, though Frost had been of much assistance before she came around. 

“J,” he calls loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to startle his boss.

The Joker pays him only a sideways glance and keeps muttering to himself.  _ Where is she, where is she, where is she _ , he is almost chanting. Yeah, Frost can work with this. He straightens his jacket and approaches him casually, lightly putting his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey J, why don't you sit down a minute, yeah?”

The Joker shakes his head and keeps muttering, but he has stopped pacing and didn't shake his hand off his shoulder either. That was a good sign. Frost squeezes his shoulder slightly and goes to stand behind him.

“J, you really gotta sit down, right?” He says evenly. He veers his boss in the direction of the chair, the one with the fluffy cushions and spacious seat. Yeah, that one would do. “C’mon. Just sit”.

He is easy to maneuver and Frost gets him to sit almost with no fuss.

“Where  _ is _ she??” He whines. He looks at Frost with narrowed eyes. “Isn't it  _ your _ job to get intel, boy?”

Frost does his best not to smirk. Blaming someone is good, he is getting out of his slump. He just needs a little push to get him back into action.

“I got people everywhere with their eyes peeled,” Frost assures him. He kneels in front of him and massages his boss’ thighs. He's pleased to see that his boss opens his legs to allow him room. Good. “There's a rumor she was taken to Louisiana, so I got all my forces checking that out. She's not the only one. Everyone is disappearing.”

That seems to spark the Joker's attention and he raises his head. Frost is still massaging his thighs and he can feel his muscles begin to relax, though his back is still tense and he has started to bounce one of his legs nervously. Frost squeezes his thigh and it makes him stop.

“So what am I gonna do until we find her, huh?”

The Joker's voice is the usual whisper, his breathing is even but his eyes are wild. There is no mistaking the energy that's thrumming through his body, which has been building ever since the river dunk. J starts running his hands over his head, his chest, his legs. He seems to be chasing the electric jolts that won't let him sit still. Frost presses his palms against J’s knees and starts massaging upwards, applying more pressure with each stroke as he keeps talking.

“You still have a business to run. People are getting itchy, they talkin’. You gotta start moving, J. This is making you look bad.”

The Joker has started purring and has sunk deeper into the chair. He doesn't seem worried about what Frost has said, or maybe he's ignoring it for now. Nothing ever gets past Mr J. He’ll come back to it eventually.

“I need her back,” he hisses. It's contradictory, saying he needs Harley Quinn while encouraging Frost to keep touching him. He slides his legs a bit wider and turns his restless hands to Frost's arms, pulling him closer until the kneeling man is pressed flush against him. “All this is tiring me out, Johnny-boy,” he snaps, leaning down to be eye-level with the other man. His eyes are swirling with fire and his breathing is ragged again.

Frost does allow his smirk to show now. He licks his lips and watches his boss follow the movement with his eyes. And damn, doesn't that send an electric jolt straight to his cock. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to have the full of the Joker's attention. All of that power directed at him, that really gets him going. People sometimes ask him why he works for the clown, and he never bothers to reply. In his mind, who wouldn't work for him? Wasn't everyone secretly addicted to power? Maybe it's just him. Doesn't matter. What matters is that J is allowing him to do this, and he isn't gonna waste it.

Frost moves his hands deliberately slow. J leans back again and starts breathing deeply, his purring resuming its constant quality. The closer Frost's hands get to his crotch, the louder the purring gets. It's electrifying. At that point, Frost doesn’t know how he’s managed to go so long without touching him, without tasting him, tasting all that  _ power _ . He presses the heel of his hand against the other man’s crotch and has to suppress the groan that almost escapes him when he feels the hardness there.  _ Oh yes, power. _ As he unzips the man’s pants and hears him hiss in anticipation, Frost has a sort of epiphany. He is as hungry for the Joker as the Joker is for Harley Quinn. Now, as he works his hand around his boss’ cock and licks a stripe from base to head, he realizes just how much  _ he _ had needed it. When he finally wraps his lips around it, he can't help but moan. He had never moaned in this position before, he’d always been afraid J wouldn't appreciate it. After all, it was supposed to be for J’s pleasure, not his own. Surprisingly, the Joker reacts by running his hands through Frost's hair and arching his back.  _ He likes it then, _ Frost thinks. He figures he should be worried about this. J’s always enjoyed a good blow-job and Frost's always been good at giving it, but he’d never given any sign of his own pleasure and he doesn't know how he's going to look at his boss in the eye after this. It had always been like another task, providing a service. But now? What if it changes their working relationship?

“Tss Johnny boy, all that thinking's gonna give you a headache,” he hears the other man say in that singing way he has. “C’mon, make Daddy feel  _ good _ .”

That gives Frost all the encouragement he needs. Why worry about the future when he can enjoy the present? He re arranges his body so that he can stroke himself with one hand and keep his other hand under the Joker's ball, pulling and massaging as he feels the other man’s orgasm building. He doesn't need to think about what he's doing, he knows what J likes. He sucks harder, letting his spit pool at the base and making slurping noises every time he pulls off. J likes it dirty, he likes hearing it as well as feeling it. Frost is stroking himself with the same intent he's bobbing his head, the Joker's hands massaging his scalp resonating in his cock. He can imagine those hands on him, pulling roughly, scratching. Another moan escapes him, which makes his throat constrict around the cock shoved inside it, which in turn makes the Joker startle and groan, bucking his hips to fuck Frost's mouth. Oh, Frost loves this part. He lets himself go, focused only on his own hand moving around his cock, while J thrust his cock down his throat. With every thrust of the Joker's hips, Frost's cock pulses in his hand. He doesn't mind that the grip on his head is tight enough to pull the hairs out. He’ll have something to remind him of this after they retrieve Harley from her entrapment. 

He can feel J is about to come. His purring has long since been replaced by growls and howls. All those animalistic noises only serve to turn him on even more. When he's with Harley, J is always laughing like a maniac. That's what he does when he's in control. But here, now, he has forgotten that he’s the boss. He’s letting go all his pent-up frustrations and savagely enjoying himself. That thought sends Frost over the edge. He doesn't mean to bite down, but he does so unconsciously from the force of his own orgasm. J stops moving and for a second Frost thinks he's about to get shot. But then he feels the warmth of come filling his mouth and spilling down his throat and there's a considerably loud purring in his ear. He hadn't realized that J is leaning over him again, running his hands smoothly through his hair.

Frost pulls off and rests back on his elbows, admiring the sight of the Joker in post-orgasmic bliss. He wants to remember this.

J cracks an eye open and laughs in that broken way everyone hates. He’s trying to get his breathing under control but it's hard. He must have really enjoyed that.

“People gettin' itchy, eh?” He rasps. “Get the car. We’re going for a ride.”

  
  



End file.
